Bitten
by Aini NuFire
Summary: A case of a rogue hellhound takes a turn when Cas is bitten and infected.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Based on a prompt from Miyth "where Sam and Dean have to rescue Cas from…innocent civilians."**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine. Also, some set up and dialogue will be similar to 12x15 "Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell" but this is not related to that episode in any other way. Thanks to Miyth and 29Pieces for beta reading!**

* * *

Chapter 1

It had been a long time since Castiel had ridden in the back of the Impala. Between his relentless search for Lucifer, and then subsequent attempts to find Kelly Kline, Castiel had been out on his own a good portion of this past year.

But he wasn't having any luck finding the woman currently carrying Lucifer's unborn child, and so he had decided to accompany the Winchesters on a hunt instead. It would be nice to 'get a win,' as Dean would say. And though the case of a werewolf killing a human was rather small scale in the scope of Castiel's present burdens, part of him was glad to simply be with Sam and Dean again. There were few places he felt a modicum of home and belonging.

They arrived at the state park where a sheriff's SUV was already waiting, and a woman wearing a thick uniformed jacket with long sandy hair in a ponytail stood leaning against the door. Dean pulled up behind the vehicle and shut off the engine, and then the three of them exited the car and made their way over.

"Sheriff Tanner," Dean greeted. "Thanks for meeting us."

She straightened in order to shake his hand, though her expression looked as if it were an inconvenience to be out here. But what she said was, "Anything for the feds. This way."

She turned and started into the woods. Castiel exchanged looks with Sam and Dean before they followed. It wasn't too far of a hike before they reached a small clearing that could have served as a campsite.

"You ask me, a bear got this guy. Maybe a cougar," Sheriff Tanner said. "Found a fair amount of blood over here, and some there." She pointed the rust colored spots out. "But no body. Whatever did it must have dragged him off. So unless you guys are lookin' to make a federal case on some critters…"

"There was a survivor, right?" Sam interjected.

Tanner nodded. "Victim's girlfriend. She's pretty shaken up."

"What did she say happened?" Dean asked.

The sheriff shook her head. "Well, she's saying some pretty strange things."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "Like what?"

"Like they were attacked by a wolf—an invisible wolf."

Castiel's frown deepened, and both Sam and Dean straightened sharply at the news. Well, that changed things.

"Look," the sheriff went on. "Girl's traumatized. And while it's tragic, this kind of thing isn't unheard of. Nature is full of predators, and with the way civilization has encroached on their territory, reducing their food supply, sometimes those predators get a taste for human blood. We had a hiker go missing yesterday and there were animal tracks on the trail. But it's not a federal case. We'll organize a manhunt to put the animal down."

Dean blinked at the abrupt news, but quickly recovered and nodded. "Thank you, Sheriff."

She gave a clipped nod in return and started back down the trail. She paused at the tree line. "Don't stay out here too long. I don't need more missing folks to worry about." Then she left.

Dean turned back to Sam and Castiel. "Invisible dog, huh? Sounds like a hellhound to me."

"It is unusual for the body to be dragged off," Castiel brought up.

"Maybe another animal came and grabbed it," Dean replied. "You heard the Sheriff; sometimes they do that."

"But what about the missing hiker?" Sam put in. "I mean, it's a pretty thin coincidence, but a coincidence all the same, don't you think?"

Dean shrugged. "Two demon deals came due in the same town. It could happen. But there's no case here. Hellhound collected some souls and that's it."

"But what if it's not?" Sam pressed. "What if more people go missing in these woods?"

"So, what, you want to go hunting a bear?" Dean scoffed. "A _bear_. Really?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's not like that's any more dangerous than the monsters we normally hunt."

Castiel waited for them to decide. If Dean was right and there was no case here, they'd be wasting time they could be devoting to finding Kelly if they stayed. On the other hand, something was killing humans in these woods, and stopping it, be it monster or beast, would have the same result of saving lives.

Dean finally let out a resigned sigh. "Fine, okay. We go bear hunting."

* * *

They returned to the motel first so Dean and Sam could change out of their suits and into more hunting appropriate attire, and then so they could grab a meal before the hunt. Castiel, of course, didn't need to do either.

It was late evening by the time they returned to the woods, but since hellhounds usually roamed at night, that was the best time to hunt them anyway. Although, the attack on the camper had happened during the day, and that hiker had gone missing in the morning. Yet another unusual piece to this puzzle.

The trio ventured cautiously into the forest, retracing their way back to the campsite where they would start their search. Sam's and Dean's flashlights skewered Castiel's night vision slightly, but not enough that he wasn't able to pick up the dried blood on the ground.

"This way," he said after determining the direction the trail led.

The Winchesters fell into step behind him, their soft footfalls barely crinkling the pine needles of the forest floor. They all kept their eyes peeled for signs of where the body had ended up. Whatever had dragged it off had taken it a significant distance from the campsite. Castiel tried to see if he could catch a whiff of sulfur in the vicinity to confirm hellhound, but the trail wasn't that fresh.

Until several minutes later when the odious stench of decay started to permeate the air. Castiel drew up short, focusing his senses.

"You got something?" Dean asked, looking a bit odd in the pair of glasses that gave him the ability to see hellhounds.

"Yes." Castiel veered to the right, weaving through trees and foliage until the fetor became nearly overwhelming and the buzzing of flies could be heard. He stepped around a fallen log and found what appeared to be a den made of dried grass and branches tucked underneath two large bushes.

Dean made a sound of disgust as he aimed his flashlight beam at the nest. Laid out at the periphery was a body, mangled to pieces. "Is that our vic or the missing hiker?"

"Both," Castiel said grimly, and pointed to a third hand that was protruding from the mass of twisted limbs.

"Great," Dean muttered. "Well, doesn't look like Yogi's at home."

"Cas," Sam spoke up. "Can you tell if it's a hellhound or a bear?"

Castiel furrowed his brow in concentration as he surveyed the den. The claw marks in the bodies were inconclusive, but there were some tracks around the outside. "It doesn't look like a bear," he commented. The paw prints, while large, weren't wide enough.

Dean swung his flashlight around the area. "So, what, are we supposed to wait for this thing to come back? What if it's out hunting somebody right now?"

Castiel felt something prickle the back of his neck, and he stiffened instinctively. Slowly craning his head, he narrowed his eyes at the dark foliage and pitch black trees surrounding them. He raised his angel blade.

"It is," he said in a low voice. "It's hunting us."

Dean and Sam immediately whipped their flashlight beams around, but they illuminated nothing amidst the blending shadows. Something rustled in the bushes that had them all whirling on the spot, but whatever was stalking them was remaining hidden—for the moment. A snarl and sound of gnashing teeth sounded from Castiel's right, and he moved quickly, trying to keep the creature from circling around behind him. He still couldn't identify it definitively, but he thought there was now a hint of brimstone on the air. Along with something else, something…sickly.

Sam and Dean had shifted to press their backs up against each other, covering themselves from all sides as they waited for the beast to show itself. Castiel caught a flash of red eyes a split second before the hellhound attacked. Like liquid shadow, it came barreling through some bushes and leaped straight at Castiel. He sidestepped and spun, slashing out with his angel blade. Celestial steel cut through air.

The hellhound's claws scraped through the dirt as it scrambled to correct its trajectory. Dean lunged at it, his own weapon raised for a strike, but the hellhound leaped aside and launched itself at Castiel again, wholly intent on snuffing out the beacon of angelic light its otherworldly eyes would have been able to detect from a mile away. It was too fast, and its hulking weight slammed into Castiel, driving him to the ground.

He threw his arm up to block the strike aimed at his jugular, and screamed as teeth sank into the flesh of his forearm instead, piercing down to bone and grace. Claws scrabbled against his chest and legs, sundering muscle and splattering hot blood into the air. His vision went white, and he couldn't manage to get his blade up to strike back.

But then the hellhound let out a sharp yelp, and abruptly fell right on top of Castiel, pushing the last of the oxygen from his lungs with a whoosh and billowing putrid breath in his face. The steel-like jaws loosened their hold, though Castiel's arm was still trapped in the beast's maw.

He heard muffled shouting, and then the massive weight was pushed off him and shoved away. It almost took his arm with it before someone grabbed him and carefully extricated his tattered sleeve from the fangs.

"Cas!"

"Shit."

He had his eyes squeezed shut against the pain, but now tried to pry them open. Sam's and Dean's faces looming over him were blurred, the rims of their special glasses splitting into four different pairs. A soft blue light seemed to reflect off their worried gazes, and it took Castiel a moment to realize grace was oozing from his wounds. Fire burned in his arm, chest, and one leg.

"Cas, hey, look at me."

Firm hands took hold of the sides of his head, and he blinked dazedly at Dean. "Hellhound?" he grunted.

"It's dead," Sam assured him. "Oh god, are you…you can heal this, right?"

Castiel closed his eyes again as nausea sloshed in his stomach. The situation had quickly turned bad. As denizens of Hell, hellhounds were one of the few creatures that could cause actual harm to an angel. Castiel would not be healing these wounds easily.

"I'm…afraid…not," he managed to get out, gasping for breath.

"Shit," Dean muttered. He moved his hands from Castiel's face and bunched up the bottom of the trench coat, which he then pressed against the slashes in Castiel's chest. His back arched as he let out a cry of pain.

"Sorry, sorry. We have to stop the bleeding."

Castiel knew that, but it didn't make the pain any easier to bear.

"Can you walk?" Dean asked.

Castiel clenched his jaw and readied himself to sit up. He almost passed out pushing himself upright, but gritted his teeth determinedly. Dean and Sam grabbed his arms to help haul him to his feet, but the moment he put weight on his leg, it buckled.

Their hands on his chest prevented him from face planting in the dirt, but that only caused pain to rocket through those wounds.

Sam used one hand to pull a map from his pocket and hastily unfolded it. "Okay, okay," he said after a moment. "There's a cabin nearby. And a road." He angled the map toward Dean. "You can go get the car and meet us there."

"What if- there's more than- one hellhound?" Castiel said haltingly.

"I've got the glasses and an angel blade," Dean replied, but he did shoot a worried look at Sam. "You gonna make it?"

Sam nodded shakily, and unceremoniously stuffed the map back in his pocket before taking the majority of Castiel's weight. "It's not far."

Castiel wasn't sure whether that was for Dean's benefit or his. He sagged against Sam, who hiked his arm higher over his shoulder. Castiel bit down hard to keep from groaning as it pulled at his wounds.

Dean's expression was grim. "Okay. Be careful."

"You too."

And with that, Dean turned and sprinted off into the woods, his flashlight beam bobbing before it was swallowed by the darkness.

Castiel stumbled as Sam turned him the other direction and they set off at a straggling hobble. Castiel tried to focus on just putting one shaky foot in front of the other, but with his one leg practically useless and dragging behind him, it was nearly impossible. His shoes scuffed through the uneven dirt, snagging on ruts and roots. His head was pounding and his wounds throbbed. Even his grace felt raw and split open, though it had stopped glowing in the night.

"Almost there, Cas. Just a little further."

Castiel wanted to snap that all he saw were trees and more trees, but he didn't have the breath to do so. He felt himself slipping.

Sam snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, and was basically the only thing keeping Castiel upright anymore. If there was more than one hellhound in these woods, the two of them were currently easy prey.

But nothing attacked them, and eventually Castiel caught the faint outlines of a symmetrical structure in the middle of the gnarled trees.

And then he was the one repeating the mantra in his head— _just a little further, almost there_.

He made it two steps from the door before collapsing.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you guests Kathy and Allison for your reviews (and Kathy for your review on "Everything Ends")!**

* * *

Chapter 2

Sam kicked in the door of the cabin and dragged a limp Cas inside. A quick look around revealed no one was home, luckily. The place had sparse furniture, but there was a couch, so Sam hauled Cas over to it and laid him down. He then went and ransacked the cabinets and drawers in search of first aid supplies. Thankfully, the cabin was stocked with basic necessities, and he grabbed a kit and some towels before returning to the unconscious angel.

Cas was pale and shocky, and there was so much blood, Sam didn't even know where to start. The gouges in his leg and torso were deep, jagged fissures of flesh and muscle that made Sam's stomach lurch because a human could easily die from this. But Cas was an angel…he'd be fine.

Except, he'd been bleeding grace earlier…

Sam pressed one towel to Cas's chest, then removed his belt so he could cinch it tightly around Cas and keep the pressure applied. He took off Cas's tie and used that to bind a towel around his leg. Finally, he checked the bite marks in Cas's arm, which were already swollen and puce colored, and when Sam peered closely, he caught glimpses of grace fizzling deep within the punctures.

Sam fingered a packet of antiseptic, wanting to use it but realizing that it probably wouldn't do any good against hellhound bites. He opened it and smeared it on anyway, then wrapped Cas's arm with another towel.

Once done, he rocked back on his haunches and surveyed his slapdash handiwork. If Cas didn't start healing…shit, most of this was too deep to stitch. What were they gonna do?

Cross that bridge when they came to it.

Sam got up and went to the sink to wash his hands of blood. When he came back, Cas was finally stirring, letting out a pained moan and turning his head from side to side.

Sam dropped down onto the floor next to the couch. "Cas, hey. You back?"

"I didn't leave," he mumbled, eyes still closed.

Sam let out a huff. "Okay, what do we do? You said you can't heal yourself?"

Cas finally pried his eyelids open. "Not…quickly, no."

"But you will heal?" Sam almost sagged in relief if things weren't as dire as he'd thought. Bad, yes, but not fatal.

Cas took in a strained breath and wheezed, "Eventually."

"Anything we can do to help? Something at the bunker?"

"I doubt it," Cas murmured. A shudder rippled through his frame, eliciting a low groan.

Sam's jaw tightened. He hated being unable to do anything. But once they got back to the bunker, he'd search through the archives for something to help, whether Cas thought he'd find anything or not. It was better than nothing.

He got up to go look out the window in search of the Impala, but the night was dark. Dean probably wouldn't have even made it back to the car yet. And hopefully he wouldn't run into any trouble. Sam checked his phone, just in case.

Cas whimpered softly, and Sam returned to his side, mouth pinching with worry as he noted the sheen on the angel's brow. Sam pressed the back of his hand to Cas's forehead.

"You're getting feverish."

Cas's eyelids fluttered as his mouth turned down. "I don't…feel right," he rasped. "I think something's wrong."

Sam jerked ramrod straight. "What do you mean?" He glanced at Cas's arm. "Do hellhounds have venom?" It wasn't something they'd ever come across before…but then, no one ever survived a hellhound attack, so how would they know? Unless it was only a problem for angels, in which case that wouldn't be common knowledge for hunters, either.

Cas shook his head. "No, but…that hellhound…it was behaving strangely. Making a den. Keeping the bodies for itself." He took in a shuddering breath. "And I sensed it was…I don't know… There was something off about it. Like it was diseased maybe."

A chill slid down Sam's spine. "Are you saying it had, what, supernatural rabies?"

"In layman's terms, I suppose it's possible," Cas said quietly, his words starting to slur.

Shit, and it'd bitten Cas. What the hell did that mean for an angel, anyway? Sam wanted to press for more answers, but it was clear Cas was fading fast, and it didn't sound like he knew anything solid anyway.

Sam prayed Dean got there soon as he found a bottle of water and helped Cas sip a little of it. He then wet a small cloth to start wiping Cas's brow with. The angel had slipped into a restless doze, tossing his head side to side and making small, unintelligible noises. Sam's gut cramped with worry.

He pulled his phone out again and tried to access the cloud of the Men of Letters archive he'd uploaded. It would have gone faster with a WiFi connection, but this far out, he had to rely on his phone's data. Loading pages had never felt like such an eternity, and typing in search keywords for hellhound sickness didn't narrow the results as much as he'd been hoping.

"No," Cas moaned. "Stop."

Sam set his phone aside and leaned forward. "Cas," he said urgently. "It's Sam. You're safe."

"Burns."

He swallowed. "That's the fever. Just hang in there, okay? Dean's coming." He glanced at the time again, fighting the niggling inclination to start worrying about his brother.

Cas finally seemed to wake, though his eyes were glassy and not entirely lucid as he gazed up at Sam. "Lucifer," he croaked.

"He's not here. He's back in the Cage, remember?"

Cas turned his head away. "Stop wearing Sam Winchester's face."

Sam stiffened. Oh, crap. "Cas, it's _me_. Lucifer's gone, I swear."

"You said we were in the Cage."

"No, _Lucifer's_ in the Cage. We're not. You got attacked by a hellhound, remember?" Sam said desperately. "You have a really high fever."

Cas's brows knitted together. "Hellhound," he repeated uncertainly.

"Yeah. You just gotta hang in there, okay? Dean's gonna be here soon and we'll get back to the bunker."

And then as if on divine cue, Sam heard the rumble of the Impala coming up the drive. _Finally_.

"See?" he told Cas. "Everything's gonna be fine."

But just as he relaxed with the guttural roar of the familiar engine getting closer and headlight beams sweeping across the window, Cas's eyes blew wide in panic, and he leaped from the couch.

"What—" Sam couldn't get anything else out, because Cas shoved him so hard he went flying across the room and slammed his back against the far wall.

Cas's eyes were wild as he snapped them to the door and the direction of the Impala where the crunch of tires over gravel sounded just outside, and then he spun around and staggered to the window, diving straight through the glass in a shower of shards.

"Cas!"

Sam was scrambling off the floor as Dean came barreling in.

"Sam!" His brother pulled up short, shooting him a bewildered look and then sweeping his gaze around the cabin. "What happened? Where's Cas?"

Sam stumbled to his feet. "He just took off."

"What?" Dean exclaimed. "Why?"

"I don't know."

He rushed out the front door and darted around to the side of the cabin and the window Cas had jumped through. The angle of the Impala in the drive cast one of the headlight beams across the ground, illuminating a bunch of broken glass. Some pieces were tinged with red, but it was difficult to say whether they were from Cas cutting himself on them or just blood transfer from the wounds he already had. Sam scanned the forest, but though dawn was just beginning to creep up the horizon, the woods were too dark to see much. He did spot a rumpled towel on the ground and hurried to snatch it up. One of the tourniquets had come loose. But there was no sign of Cas.

Dean came jogging up behind him. "Sam, what the hell?"

Sam ran his hands through his hair. Shit, this was bad. Very bad.

"Cas was getting delirious with fever," he explained. "I don't know, maybe the sound of the car scared him. That's when he freaked and tossed me across the room before jumping out the window."

Dean's brows shot upward. "Are you saying he's running around these woods, out of his mind?"

Sam's throat constricted. "We have to find him. The hellhound might have had supernatural rabies or something. If it passed that on to Cas when it bit him…"

Dean let out a curse. "Okay, well, he started to heal, right? If he had the strength to knock you down and take off like that."

Sam shook his head. "No, I think that was adrenaline." Which meant Cas could start bleeding out again. _Dammit!_

"He probably won't get far," Sam said, already pulling out his flashlight from earlier and roving the beam across the ground. "I got a blood trail."

"Dammit, Cas," Dean muttered as he ran back to the car to shut the engine off and grab his own flashlight. Then he fell into step beside Sam.

They had to find their friend before it was too late.

* * *

Castiel staggered through the woods at a harried pace. He almost tripped in a rut, but caught himself against a tree trunk. Soft light permeated the forest with a dull gray, and he looked around the canopy of trees in confusion. Was this Purgatory? It certainly looked like it. But why was he here? How was he here?

His chest burned with every wheezing breath that he struggled to take in, and Castiel shifted so he could look down at his wounds. His clothes were in tatters and stained crimson. What had attacked him? A chill followed by a wave of fire coursed through him, and Castiel dropped his forehead against the cool bark with a groan. He felt absolutely awful. Maybe he'd been attacked by Leviathan and poisoned. That must be it. He needed to keep moving, then.

Forcing himself away from the tree, Castiel continued to lumber through the woods. He had to get away from what was hunting him. Although, he thought muzzily, if he had been poisoned, then he was dying anyway. But no, he couldn't let himself be captured.

He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, each step a hobble of agony. Until he broke through the trees and stumbled onto a frozen black river—only to be struck by a beast of metal. Castiel flipped up over the hood and then crashed down onto coarse asphalt, darkness taking him.

* * *

Every nerve ending firing brought him back to consciousness, albeit groggily.

"I swear, he just came out of nowhere. I didn't see him!" a distraught voice sounded somewhere nearby.

Castiel immediately tensed for danger, and struggled to open his eyes. A man in a blue uniform was kneeling beside him, and started to lean over threateningly.

"Sir, can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?"

Castiel tried to turn his head, but found he couldn't. Something was strapped around his neck, immobilizing him.

"Sir?"

"I recognize him," a female voice interjected. "He's a fed. Came down to look into the wild animal attacks. It looks like he got mauled by the bear, dammit. I need to find his colleagues. Hopefully they weren't all out in the woods last night, or this will be a federal case now."

Castiel couldn't follow what was being said. His head was fuzzy and everything hurt. A strangled sound garbled in his throat.

"Get a line in," the man in the blue uniform said before turning his gaze back to Castiel. "Sir, we're going to take you to the hospital."

Castiel frowned, but then choked on a cry of pain as he was suddenly lifted on something flat and hard, and placed on a litter that bore him to the back of a vehicle. The wheels juddered over concrete before they were somehow retracted and he was sliding into a cab of some sort. The man climbed in behind him and began to fiddle with bags and implements that Castiel thought looked familiar but he couldn't quite place.

Then an engine rumbled beneath him and Castiel jolted. What was going on? The vehicle lurched slightly as it started to move. He heard a voice up front speaking in code through what sounded like the crackle of a radio. Didn't they say they were taking Castiel to the hospital?

…The hospital with all the demons in it? He looked around for Meg, but no, she wouldn't be there. Which meant Castiel couldn't let himself be taken to that place. He started to struggle against the straps across his chest.

"Sir, you need to calm down."

Castiel looked up at the man, but couldn't see the black pits of a demon's true face. So, he was human? Maybe they didn't know the hospital was full of demons. Or, could Castiel's sight be diminished by the poison in his veins? He'd never felt such fire in not only his vessel, but also his grace, before. How had he been injured? Something about Leviathan? Or was it something else?

Castiel gave himself a rough shake. He needed to concentrate on escaping. But if these really were humans in the ambulance with him, then he couldn't kill them. But he also couldn't be sure, and therefore couldn't risk staying like this and letting them deliver him to the enemy.

So Castiel clenched his fists and summoned all his might to snap the straps holding him down, and then he surged upright on the gurney.

"Hey!" the paramedic shouted.

Castiel threw himself at one side of the cab, trying to break free. He wasn't able to punch a hole through the metal, but the force of the impact sent the entire vehicle flipping onto its side. Castiel crashed against a bunch of shelves and nearly blacked out from the pain again.

The ambulance skidded across asphalt with a screech before careening to a stop. The paramedic lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom, moaning. Castiel crawled to the back door. Something in his arm tugged, and he turned to rip out an IV line from the crook of his elbow. He hadn't even felt that get inserted.

Kicking the back doors open, he tumbled out of the ambulance, squinting in the harsh sunlight that assaulted him. He needed to find shelter.

Without a single glance back, he broke into a lumbering gait and escaped into a field.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dean's heart was hammering against his ribs as he and Sam traipsed through the woods looking for Cas. The blood trail was easy enough to follow once dawn arrived, but that didn't make Dean feel any better. Sure, Cas was an angel, so what did blood mean to him? But if he couldn't heal himself and he was sick, then blood loss was definitely something to be worried about.

Sam pulled up short. "You hear that?"

Dean stopped. There was a small burst of a police siren, followed by the wailing of others further away.

Shit, that couldn't be good.

Dean exchanged a look with his brother before the two of them set off toward the sounds. They came across a road packed with first responder vehicles that were surrounding an overturned ambulance.

"Maybe it's just an accident," Sam said.

"Maybe." Dean had a bad feeling in his gut, though.

His phone rang, loud and jarring, and he fumbled in his pocket to reach it. He didn't need to answer, though, because at the same time, Sheriff Tanner looked over from where she stood at the accident scene, her phone pressed to her ear. As soon as her eyes met theirs, she hung up, and Dean's phone stopped.

"Agents!" She stormed over. "Did you just come from the woods? What the hell is the matter with you?"

"We, uh," Sam sputtered. "We were just following up on some leads."

"Leads! You nearly got your man killed, you know that? I told you there was a wild animal out here."

Dean stiffened. "You saw Ca- uh, Agent Fales?"

Sheriff Tanner crossed her arms. "He stumbled out of the woods this morning and got hit by a car."

Dean's eyes widened.

"But he was already in bad shape before that," she went on. "Mauled by whatever animal has been doin' the killings. I was going to call you, but then he had some kind of fit in the ambulance and caused it to flip. He's escaped."

Dean jumped from relief to dread in two seconds flat. Cas was alive, but apparently still out of his mind if he was crashing ambulances.

"Which way did he go?" he demanded.

Tanner shook her head. "Don't know. We're bringing the dogs in."

"Look, Sheriff," Sam jumped in, sounding panicked. "Let us handle this. He's one of us. We can find him."

"He's a danger to others and himself."

"He's sick," Sam pressed. "And delirious from blood loss. He's not trying to hurt anyone."

Tanner's lips thinned almost sympathetically. "All the more reason to bring him in as quickly as possible and get him to a hospital."

Dean's jaw tightened. They had to get to Cas first.

The Sheriff turned as a van pulled up and three men with search dogs jumped out. "Look," she said to the Winchesters, not unkindly, "We'll find your man, okay?" Then she headed over to brief the search teams.

"This is getting out of control," Sam hissed.

"Yeah," Dean muttered, running a hand down his face. "Okay, we have no choice but to stick close. Those dogs will probably catch Cas's trail before we can."

"And then?" Sam prompted.

"And then we hope he recognizes us enough to let us help him," Dean replied.

A muscle in Sam's cheek ticked. Dean didn't like it, either, but he gritted his teeth and headed after the Sheriff, who was just sending the dogs to the ambulance to try picking up Cas's trail.

"We're coming with you," Dean said.

Tanner shook her head. "Agents—"

"He's our partner," Dean cut her off. "We're coming."

She let out a resigned sigh. "Yeah, alright."

One of the dogs threw its head back and howled, signaling it had the scent. The group headed off into the nearby field, Dean and Sam following closely. Dean had no idea how they were going to find a way out of this, but first priority was finding Cas alive.

The dogs led them along the edge of the woods and then into some pasture land. Every once in a while Dean would catch sight of blood on the ground, spiking his worry further. The Sheriff's deputies were combing the field, presumably for a body, while the dog teams kept moving onward relentlessly. Until they came to a barn and the dogs started to bark furiously. The leader raised a fist and pointed at the structure.

Sheriff Tanner nodded, and put a hand on her gun holster.

"Hey, stand down," Dean snapped, him and Sam pushing their way to the front and planting themselves in her path. "He's not a fugitive."

"He crashed that ambulance and could have killed those paramedics," the sheriff responded tightly. "I can't let him hurt any of my men."

"Then we'll go in," Sam countered. "A bunch of strangers are just gonna make him freak out more."

Tanner's eyes narrowed, hand still on her holster. "The way you're talking makes it sound like your colleague is hopped up on drugs."

"He's not," Dean bit out angrily, taking an imposing step toward her while Sam took one toward the barn and threw his palms out as though to warn everyone back.

"Look," Sam said loudly. "The animal that attacked him was sick or something, and it probably passed on the infection to our guy when he got bitten."

The sheriff arched an incredulous brow. "Seriously?"

Dean shot an authoritative glare at the rest of the officers. "Just everyone stay out here," he ordered. "We got this."

There was a tense moment where the deputies cast uncertain looks toward Sheriff Tanner, and after another beat, she waved at them to stay put.

"I'm coming with you," she said, stepping forward.

Dean bristled and opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off.

"My jurisdiction. Now let's go. Your partner needs help." At least she finally removed her hand from her gun.

Dean ground his teeth and moved quickly enough to get in front of her as she approached the barn. "No guns," he growled, nudging the door open a few inches so they could slip inside.

Not that bullets could hurt an angel. Usually. Dean didn't want to test that with the state Cas was currently in.

The three of them crept inside cautiously. There was some hay and a row of stalls, some riding tack to the left, but otherwise the place looked empty. Dried grass and sawdust hung in the air mustily.

Dean exchanged a look with Sam as they carefully started to fan out, checking corners and behind farming equipment. The sound of reedy breathing drew them both short at the same time, and together they converged on a single stall. Dean's chest constricted when they stepped in front of it and found Cas huddled in the back against the wall. Most of the blood on his clothes had dried, and his complexion was ashen. He flinched upon seeing them.

"Stay away!" Cas snapped.

Dean threw his hands up. "Whoa, buddy, it's just me and Sam."

Cas's eyes were glazed and unfocused as they darted back and forth, ghosting over the Winchesters without a glimmer of recognition. "Sam?" he rasped.

Sam inched closer. "Yeah. And Dean. We're here to help."

"Dean," Cas repeated, still not sounding completely lucid. His gaze flitted to the side and his brow furrowed.

"Yeah," Dean said softly, drawing Cas's attention back to them. "You with us?"

Cas flinched a second time, stiffening as he whipped his gaze to the side again, almost as though boring through the walls of the barn. Dean heard one of the dogs outside yip, and he clenched his fist to divert his frustration from his voice.

"Cas, buddy, focus on me," he said, trying to keep his tone calm and soothing like he was talking to a child.

Cas shifted with a grimace, and his eyes narrowed with dark suspicion as Sheriff Tanner decided to press herself into the crowded space and see what was going on for herself. Dean's jaw hardened with the urge to yell at her to back off.

"And this is Sheriff Tanner," he said hurriedly. "She just wants to make sure we get you safe and take you home."

Cas squinted at them. "She was at the- the road," he said hoarsely. "She told the demons to take me to the hospital."

Dean stiffened. Oh, crap.

Tanner leaned in close to his ear. "I can get some tranquilizers. Might be the best way to get him out of here."

"No," Sam blurted. "Just- give us a minute."

"Your friend doesn't have a minute," she hissed.

Cas suddenly pushed himself up with great struggle, clinging to the wall. "You're not Sam and Dean."

Dean raised his hands non-threateningly again. "Cas, man, it is us."

Cas shook his head fervently, which almost upset his precarious balance. "No. I can hear the hellhounds outside. Which means you're demons."

Tanner reached for her radio. "I'm calling for some tranquilizers."

"Dean." Sam knocked his arm frantically to get his attention, eyes widening.

Cas drew himself up shakily. "I won't let you take me."

Dean saw the unearthly aura begin to suffuse around the angel a second before Cas's eyes started to glow blue.

 _Crap_.

Tanner paused with the radio raised halfway to her mouth. "What the hell…"

"Cas, don't," Dean called desperately. "It's really us."

But Cas wasn't listening. The angel took a wobbly step forward and raised his outstretched hand toward them.

 _Crap, crap, crap_.

Dean's ears popped as the air pressure increased and heat wafted from the impending supernova about to be unleashed. He and Sam grabbed the sheriff and ran, making it back out to the front of the barn in time to take cover behind the farming equipment as radiant light exploded with a shockwave that rattled the walls.

The moment it receded, the Winchesters were hauling the sheriff up and dragging her out the barn door. Dean cast one last look over his shoulder and saw Cas stumble weakly back into the stall. His chest tightened, and he wanted nothing more than to rush back to help his best friend. But they needed to regroup.

And so he pulled the barn door closed behind him with a resounding bang.

* * *

Sam kept one hand on Sheriff Tanner's elbow as they staggered outside.

"What- what the hell was that?" she spluttered.

He grimaced, and exchanged a grim look with Dean. That had not gone well at all.

"Was that a bomb?" someone shouted from the perimeter.

"Sheriff!"

Dean took a step toward the waiting deputies and officers, one hand up to hold them back. "You need to get your men out of here," he told Tanner harshly. "And those damn dogs."

Yeah, they were making the situation worse if Cas thought they were hellhounds. Although, Sam noticed the animals had been cowed by that angelic display of power, even muffled behind closed walls.

Tanner started shaking her head, eyes wide and frantic. "Are you kidding? I need to call in _more_ men. Was that even human? It couldn't be human," she rambled, only to straighten abruptly and narrow her gaze on them. "And why aren't you two freaking out?"

Sam shared a look with his brother. Guess there was no avoiding 'the Talk' at this point.

He took a breath and turned back to the sheriff soberly, keeping his voice low for their ears only. "Okay, we're not actually FBI agents. My name is Sam Winchester. That's my brother, Dean. And we hunt monsters."

Tanner stared at him. "Monsters?" she repeated dubiously.

"Yeah," Dean put in. "That bear you thought was killing people, was actually a hellhound. We killed it last night, but our friend was bitten and now he's sick."

"And he isn't human," Sam added. "He's an angel."

The sheriff's mouth moved soundlessly for several moments before she raised a hand as though to ward off what they were saying. "I don't know whether you're all on drugs, or you think this is some kind of joke…"

"You saw what happened in there," Sam pressed. "Please, just let us handle this. Our friend isn't thinking straight and if he feels threatened, he's going to defend himself. Tell your men to clear the area."

Her lips thinned in displeasure as she seemed to consider it, and Sam waited tensely. But finally she turned to address the other law enforcement personnel and shouted for them to fall back to the road.

"Ma'am?" one of them questioned.

"Just do it!"

She shook her head at herself. "I'm gonna be kicked out of office for this."

Sam gave her a grateful nod. "Not if everyone goes home safe." He turned to Dean. "So what do we do?"

"Hell if I know," Dean muttered as he watched the deputies and officers retreat, taking the dogs with them. "Cas say anything about hellhound sickness before he lost it?"

"Only that in theory, it was possible." He ran a hand through his hair. How the hell were they supposed to help their friend? "Think his grace will take care of it eventually?"

Dean pulled out his phone. "I'm not waiting on that to find out."

Sam quirked a brow at him. "Who are you calling?"

"Crowley." Dean punched a button and held the phone to his ear. "It was his damn hellhound that went loony; he'd better have a way to fix this."

Sam's jaw tightened, but his brother had a point, and they didn't really have anyone else they could ask.

Sheriff Tanner leaned toward him. "Um, you're calling this Crowley who owns hellhounds?"

"Well, he is the King of Hell," Sam muttered.

Her eyes widened further. "You have the King of Hell on speed dial?"

"Hazard of the job," he explained. "We're not friends."

"But you're friends with an angel."

Sam gave her a small smile. "Yeah."

Tanner nodded slowly. "Maybe I'm the one who's been drugged."

"It's a lot to take in," he said sympathetically.

"I don't care if it was rabies or hellhound pox," Dean's loud voice rose in volume. "You had a rogue hellhound on the loose, killing random people who didn't sell their souls. The way I see it, that's a problem for business. A problem we took care of for you, so you owe us. How do we help Cas?"

"It's just," Tanner whispered to Sam. "Cas the angel? Sounds kind of…underwhelming?"

Sam smirked. "His name is Castiel."

"Ah. That does sound more angelic."

"Don't forget that little display of angelic power back there," Sam said, nodding to the barn.

A little of that panic returned to her eyes. "Right."

"Okay, thanks." Dean hung up and turned back to them. "Crowley said it's rare for hellhounds to go rabid, but not unheard of. And apparently the disease can be passed to demons who are bitten, too, so he's got a cure somewhere. He's gonna text it to me once he finds the recipe."

Sam's chest tightened as he glanced at the barn. He hoped Cas could wait that long.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dean paced back and forth outside the barn, anxiously waiting to get back in there and help Cas, who was hurting and afraid and probably didn't even know what was happening to him. It drove Dean mad to be so helpless.

Sam had gone off to get the ingredients the moment Crowley had texted the remedy, while Dean had stayed behind to guard the barn and make sure Cas didn't try to run off again. Sheriff Tanner had stayed with him, and at least was able to keep the rest of the sheriff's department from descending on them.

"Not the real FBI, huh?" the woman spoke up after a while, eyeing him with arms crossed. "Impersonating them is a felony, you know."

"We do what we have to, to get the job done."

She hummed. "So, what, you guys go around barging into cases of animal attacks?"

"When we suspect werewolves," he replied. "Vamp attacks can sometimes look like an animal, if the neck is shredded enough. Then there's ghosts and witches and demons."

Tanner blanched. "I don't think I want to know."

"No, you probably don't. But hey, knowing the truth means you'll look at things differently. You ever come across a death that seems weird, you give us a call."

She let out a snort. "So now you're the ghostbusters?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Sometimes we save the world, too."

They fell silent after that, until a few minutes later when Sam finally returned, jogging up the dirt drive toward the barn.

Dean frowned. "Where's Baby?"

Sam was supposed to have gone back to retrieve her, since a few of the ingredients for the cure were in the trunk.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I left her at the access road. Remember how the sound of the engine scared Cas the first time?"

Dean winced. "Right. So you got it?"

Nodding, Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a vial with a milky looking liquid inside. "I had to improvise a little, but I think it'll work."

Dean held his hand out. "One way to find out. I'll go in alone."

"What? Dean—"

"We don't want to overwhelm him," he said before Sam could argue further. "Especially if he's having trouble recognizing us, but he did 'claim' my soul in Hell or whatever, so that's gotta count for something, right?"

Sam's mouth pressed into a thin line, but he nodded and handed the vial over.

Dean took a steadying breath, and headed for the barn door. He slid it open as quietly as he could, though it was impossible not to make some sound. It was late afternoon now, approaching sunset, and yellow-orange rays were streaming through some holes in the shoddy barn walls and spilling what looked like gold dust everywhere.

Dean crept toward the stall Cas had been in, and carefully peeked around the corner of it. Cas was still there, huddled in a miserable ball and shivering. He didn't even notice Dean at first.

"Cas?" Dean called tentatively.

The angel flinched and turned his head sharply, eyes roving around wildly.

"Easy, there," Dean said softly. "It's just me. Dean."

"Dean?" Cas rasped.

"Yeah, buddy. Do you remember what happened?"

Cas's brow puckered, and he looked around at the animal stall. "Rowena," he gasped. "She cast a spell."

Dean's stomach dropped. "No, that was a year ago. We were hunting a hellhound, remember? You got torn up pretty bad and it bit you. It was sick, and now you're sick, too. But I've got the cure right here." He held the bottle between his fingers so Cas could see.

Cas frowned deeply, like he was trying to decipher some pop culture reference that didn't make sense. He slowly glanced down at his wounds. "Hellhound," he murmured. "I heard them baying—"

"Hellhound's dead," Dean interrupted. "Sam killed it." He held his breath and took a step into the stall, wary of Cas's reaction. "You gotta let me help you, man. You've lost a lot of blood and I bet you feel like crap, right?"

Cas's expression pinched as he regarded Dean uncertainly.

Dean slowly slid his other foot forward, bringing him to only a few feet apart, and painstakingly lowered himself to Cas's eye level, trying to be as non-threatening as possible.

"Cas," he said gently yet firmly. "You trust me?"

Cas furrowed his brow in confusion. "Of course."

"Okay." Dean tried not to tense as he shuffled closer, carefully reaching out to touch Cas's knee. "Now I gotta be honest with you, I don't know what this is gonna taste like." He uncorked the vial. "But you need to drink it all, okay?"

Cas's eyes were bloodshot and fever glazed, but he nodded. Dean lifted the bottle to his lips and tipped it back, pouring the potion into his mouth. Cas's throat bobbed as he chugged it down, thankfully not gagging or spitting any of it out. Once the vial was empty, Dean set it aside and waited with bated breath for some results.

Which happened to be Cas's eyes rolling back and him falling completely limp.

Dean's heart stuttered and he grabbed the angel's shoulders, keeping him upright. "Sammy!"

He heard the barn door grate open in a hurry and then Sam came rushing into the stall.

"What? Did it work?"

"I don't know," Dean scowled. "He drank it and passed out."

Dean shifted so Cas was slumped against him, head on his shoulder, and he lifted his free hand to Cas's face to see if he was breathing.

"I double checked with the Men of Letters archives," Sam said, distressed. "To make sure Crowley wouldn't try to screw us over. The cure was legit."

Sheriff Tanner came into view. "Do angels need hospitals?" she asked hesitantly.

Dean didn't know what to do, and was seriously trying to hold it together and not imagine that Cas was dying in his arms, when he noticed the jagged and inflamed fissures underneath the ripped clothes seemed to be melding back together.

Dean's hand flew to Cas's hem and he pulled it back, revealing the healing that was taking place after all, albeit a tad slower than typical angel healing. But Cas had been through the wringer.

"Sam, it's working."

His brother let out a heavy breath of relief. "Oh, thank god."

Dean watched as the feverish sheen to Cas's brow faded and color return to his complexion, banishing the pasty death tone. He wasn't waking up, but his breathing had evened out and lost that reedy whistling sound. After the night he'd had, Cas probably needed the sleep.

"So," Tanner spoke up, voice shaky with amazement. "How exactly am I supposed to write this up?"

Dean met her gaze and shrugged. "Wild bear."

* * *

Castiel woke to the scent of fresh linen and the sound of the radiator rumbling on the other side of the wall, and knew before he opened his eyes that he was in his room at the bunker. That didn't erase his confusion, though, and when he finally did take in his surroundings, he was even more perplexed to find that he was tucked in bed, wearing sweat pants and an old t-shirt. The fact that he had no memory of getting like this was somewhat distressing, and he briefly wondered whether this was some kind of hallucination or pocket dimension. What _was_ the last thing he could remember? A case of animal mauling…or, hellhound. That was it.

Castiel slowly slid out of bed and placed bare feet on the cold concrete. He remembered the hellhound attacking. …Had it killed him? But, if he was dead, surely he wouldn't be in Heaven…

He ventured from his room cautiously, following the scent of cooking meat that was wafting down the corridor. He found Sam and Dean in the kitchen, the latter flipping a burger on the stove. Sam was sitting at the table and straightened upon seeing Castiel.

"Cas, you're awake!" he exclaimed with a relieved smile.

Dean spun around, eyes also lighting up. "About time, Sleeping Beauty. How you feeling?"

Castiel shifted his weight uncertainly. "Fine." He did feel all right—well-rested and grace intact. "Um, what happened?"

"You don't remember?" Sam asked.

He shook his head and shuffled forward to take a seat at the table. "Not really, no. Weren't we hunting a hellhound?"

Sam's expression sobered. "Yeah. You got torn up pretty bad in the fight. The hellhound was sick, too, which was why it was randomly killing people. And since it bit you, you got pretty sick."

"You had us chasing you halfway across the county because you thought we were demons," Dean interjected as he flipped the finished burger onto a bun and came to join them.

Castiel stared at him dubiously. "What?"

"You were delirious with fever," Sam explained.

He stiffened. "Did I hurt either of you?"

"Nah," Dean replied. "You did flip an ambulance and nearly gave the sheriff a heart attack, though."

Sam rolled his eyes in vexation, while Castiel was horrified.

"You didn't hurt anyone," Sam rushed to assure him. "Paramedics had a few bruises, and after we explained hellhounds and angels to the sheriff, she let us handle things. We found a cure for the hellhound sickness, and it worked pretty fast, but you were out for over a day." His expression softened. "We figured you needed the rest."

Castiel leaned back in his chair, stunned. "I'm sorry."

"Wasn't your fault," Dean said, and some of his glibness faded. "The important thing is you're okay."

Castiel dropped his gaze and fingered the hem of his borrowed shirt. He had flashes of his usual clothes being ripped when the hellhound's claws had torn into him.

"We saved your suit and coat," Dean said, as though able to read his thoughts. "They're in a bag in the laundry room. I figured you could repair them…?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

Dean shrugged. "Couldn't let you sleep in bloodstained clothes."

Well, they could have, but Castiel appreciated that they hadn't.

"You hungry?" Dean added out of the blue. "I can make you a burger."

"That's not necessary," he replied. "And I really should get back to looking for Kelly. I've lost too much time already."

"You needed it," Dean said somewhat sternly.

That didn't change things, though.

"We can help with that," Sam put in. "Three heads have gotta be better than one."

Castiel stood up. "It's my responsibility."

Dean got to his feet sharply to mirror him. "It's all of our responsibility. We've been over that."

Castiel started to shake his head. "I'm the one who lost her…"

"All three of us could have been there and she still would have managed to give us the slip," Sam countered. "She's a mother protecting her child."

Castiel sighed. Yes. And that made this so much more complicated than hunting a simple monster.

"Here's the plan," Dean said. "You go mojo your Columbo look back to pristine condition, I'll make you a burger, and Sam will pull up some new searches we can do. We all meet in the library in ten." His tone brooked no argument, though Castiel readily would have given one…if a small part of him hadn't been grateful for the offer.

So he suppressed a sigh that would have only been half frustration, half fond exasperation, and nodded. "Alright."

Dean nodded in return, and went back to the stove. "Also," he threw over his shoulder, "no more hellhound cases."

Sam let out a soft snort, and Castiel scoffed.

But he didn't necessarily disagree.

* * *

 **A/N: The end! I've got a one shot for Monday, and hopefully I can start writing more soon, because my queue is woefully low. 0_o**


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